


Ghostly Hijinks-Starring the Boss Ghosts, feat. Luigi

by CurtainCaller



Category: Luigi's Mansion (Video Games), Luigi's Mansion 3
Genre: Backstory, Every boss ghost is a baby, Everyone hates Hellen, Fluff, Ghosts being chaotic, Ghosts being dorks, Hellen is valid, Jealousy, More tags to be added, Multi, Okay maybe not everyone hates Hellen, Oneshot, Spoilers, Straight Relationships, Wholesome energy, gay relationships, headcanons, like so much fluff oh my god
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-01-29 03:50:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21403717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CurtainCaller/pseuds/CurtainCaller
Summary: So I've gotten attached to the Portrait/Boss Ghosts in Luigi's Mansion 3, and I decided to try my hand at writing a bunch of oneshots of them interacting with each other and just being the goofballs that they are.Platonic oneshots? Boom, I've got'chu.Romantic oneshots? Boom, I've got'chu.Angsty oneshots? Boom, I've got'chu.Gay oneshots? Boom, I've got'chu.Straight oneshots? Boom, I've got'chu.Poly oneshots? Boom, I've got'chu.NSFW oneshots? I don't have you there, but I can supply you with a bucket of fluff instead.
Relationships: Morty/Amadeus Wolfgeist, Steward/Chambrea, more relationships to be added - Relationship
Comments: 124
Kudos: 158





	1. Steward and Chambrea: A Little Assistance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to start this off with my personal favorite duo idea: Steward and Chambrea. AKA "I really need a 5 minute break" solidarity. Local overworked, cranky bellboy and local curious, adorable maid helping each other. I kinda lowkey ship them a little, not gonna lie.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy! And if you have any suggestions or requests, feel free to offer them up!

Any job can be stress inducing, but when your boss is someone like Hellen Gravely, you might just work yourself to _death_. Might explain why her staff is composed of ghosts, though. When you’re forced to carry out menial tasks and relentless orders from someone like her, it’s almost too much to handle. Thankfully, you tend to have companions with similar sentiments nearby.

It first began with a very concerning sight, to say the least. Chambrea happened to stumble upon Steward practically buried under a large pile of heavy luggage. The only sign that gave this away was his ghostly tail sticking out and his bellhop hat lying a few inches away. So Chambrea temporarily set her cleaning duties aside to dig the poor ghost out, hoping that Hellen wouldn’t come by and catch the two of them “slacking off”. He was still conscious upon being freed, but he seemed much more exhausted than normal. The poor bellhop had carried one too many bags on his cart and ended up buried because of it. 

Sighing, Chambrea helped Steward to sit down on one of the larger suitcases, dusting his uniform off for him as well. She looked him over for a brief moment, as if it would really matter that he received a few bruises from this, as her fellow staff member took this moment to breathe so he could will himself to continue. To Steward’s surprise, she proceeded to lean over, grab his cap off the top of his head, and carefully set it on her tall mound of hair. He looked at her quizzically and started to get back up, only for her to extend a hand out and nudge him back into a sitting position. She gave him a firm smile and a thumbs up, before turning away and beginning to load the rest of the luggage onto the cart by herself. He opened his mouth to protest, but he stopped himself. This might be his_ only break for a while, _after all. Might as well take advantage of this, right?  
  
So, Steward gladly leaned back and put his arms behind his head, taking this time to nap. It wasn’t a very long nap by most standards, but it was a lot longer than his usual ones. A whole 10 minutes before Chambrea woke him up. He expected her to be done relatively fast, 5 minutes at most, but it seems as though even_ she_ had struggled a little bit. Completely understandable, given the fact her job is to clean and not to carry stuff around, not to mention a few of the bags had been spilled open when she found the mess. Nonetheless, the two of them loaded the final bag onto the cart together and then they parted ways, Steward temporarily pausing to notice that the cart he was pushing looked a lot cleaner.

It was later that exact same day when Steward got to repay that favor. He was simply floating down the hall to take care of his next demand when he noticed one of the empty guest room doors was opened _just_ a smidgen. From within that room came a soft snoring noise, which was perplexing given the fact that this room was vacant at the moment. He slowly creaked open the door only to find Chambrea passed out on the provided bed. Half of the room around her was clean while the second half still remained in disarray. She had been so tired that once she got to making the bed, she got too comfy and passed out. He hesitated for a moment before deciding that his current task could wait, drifting into the room to assist. Or, in less formal terms, he basically said _“Fuck you Hellen!”_ mentally and floated off to help.  
  
He had hoped to stay quiet as to not disturb her, but when you’re dusting about half of a room down, you’re gonna be prone to letting a sneeze or two slip from all the dust. It’s still preferable to getting a lungful of Hellen’s makeup powder, though. Either way, Chambrea had awoken, very confused upon finding Steward wielding a bottle of window cleaner and a feather duster. She started to slide off the bed to continue her own duties, only to be given a lot of **‘stop’** gestures by Steward. Straightening his bow-tie confidently, he gave her a smirk and a determined thumbs up before turning around and continuing where he left off. Chambrea went to interject, but inevitably decided against it and laid back down, letting out a little giggle of gratitude.

10 minutes later the room was sufficiently clean, excluding the bed that the maid had been resting on. The two of them quickly made the bed look presentable and comfy, then they parted ways, Chambrea pausing a minute or two later upon realizing how organized her supplies were now.

Ever since then, the two of them had an unspoken agreement going on. Whenever they could, they’d lend each other a hand. It was mostly just little things, like warning each other when Hellen was coming, or just helping to carry things into the elevator. Over time, they even began to enjoy themselves, doing small things to make each other laugh. One time the two of them were given a task that was located down a hallway. All Steward had to say was _“Wanna race?” _and the two of them were speeding down it. They ultimately had to go back down that exact same hallway to retrieve some items that they dropped, but they both had the biggest smiles on their faces the whole time. 

Their plans weren’t always _entirely_ foolproof, and of course they were constantly accused of goofing off whenever they were caught, but hey… it was good enough for the two of them.


	2. Morty and the Magicians: Extra Staff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got around to writing the next one shot! I decided to take BurningFox6's request of Morty and the Magician trio, or as I like to title it, "Local ghost director adopts 3 chaotic neutral kids". I also headcanon that Nikki, Ginny, and Lindsey refer to everyone in the hotel as either "Mister/Mr." or "Miss/Mrs.", or large groups as "Ladies and/or Gentlemen". 
> 
> Anyways, feel free to leave more requests! I apologize ahead of time if I never get to someone's request, I've gotten a lot of really good ones though.

Morty _desperately_ needed inspiration.

The poor director had been suffering for the past couple hours from writer’s block… er, well, the more technical term would probably be art block, since it dealt more with visuals rather than the actual script. The story line for his latest hit was fine, he was just struggling with the aesthetics. Currently he was overlooking a basic balcony setting with a night sky as the background, except there was one issue with it.

It was… well, it was **basic**. He couldn’t quite tell what was **missing **from the scene, but it surely lacked _something_. He had tried all manners of props and details, but no matter how many angles he looked at it from, he was left utterly stumped! No amount of potted plants, vines, or camera frame shapes made with his fingers could give him the spark of creativity that he so dearly needed. He simply couldn’t settle with such a boring shot, unless the intended scene called for something somber! This scene was supposed to hold a grand gesture that captured the hearts of those who watched it, and he wasn’t going to go for something so… bland.  
  
Currently, Morty laid slumped his director’s chair, trying his best to brainstorm any possible solution to his predicament. His still-remaining sense of concentration and focus was briefly halted from a faint sound coming from a few floors below. He couldn’t make out what it was exactly, but he could definitely hear the familiar yelling of Amadeus Wolfgeist. You had to be _very _high up in the hotel to not hear him when he got _particularly_ mad, but everyone could tell it was most likely because of one reason. Well, actually, more like three reasons rolled into one. Those three recently mentioned reasons suddenly spun into the director’s studio, quite literally, hidden inside their large magician’s hats. They swiveled in at high speeds, a muffled giggling coming from them as they began to spin around Morty, before eventually the trio of the sisters popped out one by one.  
  
“Hi Mr.Morty!”  
“What’s up?”  
“You’re looking kinda down.”  
“Yeah, super blue!”  
“He’s always blue, though?”  
“Definitely bluer than usual.”  
Their initially “_friendly_” mish-mash of greetings slowly dissolved into concern. It wasn’t clear if it was genuine concern or not, as it was usually hard to tell how sweet the three of them were really being. It could at least be assumed that it wasn’t comprised of negative intentions, as Morty was on good terms with them. Well, what could be considered to be good terms. He definitely wasn’t as frequent of a target for their mischief, usually not sporting a good enough reaction, as they found much enjoyment from directing their pranks onto the more hotheaded folk in the hotel. Morty didn’t fall into that category, so they had a sort of… unspoken passive agreement between them. 

Sighing, Morty draped an arm over his forehead dramatically. “Well, my muse is plummeting into a deep abyss! My creativity is growing more and more dull as time passes, it's as though my head is filled with nothing but a _never-ending void!_” He cried, his voice very dull and unenthusiastic despite the occasional raise in volume. The 3 sisters glanced at one another before Ginny whispered a comment under her breath.  
_ "He’s almost as dramatic as Mr. Wolfgeist…” _

“Speaking of which…” Morty slowly pushed himself back into an upright, albeit slumped position. “I suppose you’d happen to know why Amadeus was screaming moments ago?” All 3 of the girls proceeded to let out a lengthy _"noooooooooo",_ as if they never had a record of trickery and pranks, simultaneously looking in every direction except for the director in front of them. All Morty had to do was raise an eyebrow and Lindsey sighed, pressing the tips of her fingers together.  
  
“Okay, okay, so we _maaaaaaay or may not_ have set off fireworks in his piano.”  
Soon enough, the other 2 quietly piped up.  
“And we _maaaaaaaay or may not_ have immediately ran the second he found out.”  
“And he _maaaaaaay or may not_ be looking for us and is probably searching our floor.”  
“And we _may or may not_ need a place to hide until he calms down.”  
“I’m guessing it’ll take an hour or two before his face stops looking like a tomato."  
“Hours? More like **days**.”  
“Maybe weeks…”  
“Hey, it wasn’t **that** bad!”

Whilst the sisters began to bicker among themselves over the situation, Morty simply shook his head and took a glance through his nearby camera at the set yet again, trying to find some way to fill the void of boredom in this scene. The fact that the 3 sisters were currently arguing in this set sure didn’t make it as boring as it was before, but it didn’t deliver the energy he was hoping for. He wanted something flashy and amazing, not 3 magicians arguing about using too many fireworks and--  
  
…**Wait a second.**  
_"Hold it, hold it!”_ Morty immediately cut into their squabbling, having suddenly been hit with a surge of passion and energy. “That’s it… this is exactly what I’ve needed! Quick, one of you, give me some fireworks! Just a small spark!” Through the lens of the camera, Nikki decided to take initiative with that request. She took off her large magician’s hat, waved her free hand over the inside of it, and out flew a couple of fireworks, crackling and shimmering in the air. Through Morty's magical camera, the drab balcony scene was overcome with glimmering fireworks in the sky, adding a brand new level of pizzazz to it! Laughing giddily, Morty pulled himself away from the camera, clasped his hands together, and grinned at the trio.  
  
“I know this is sudden, but how would you three like to be part of my special effects crew? Your skills with magic and your spectacles are exactly what I need!” He exclaimed, his tone of voice going from soft and quiet to loud and energetic. The sisters all let out a small hum of contemplation, glancing at one another, before briefly huddling together to discuss. About a minute or two later, they swiveled back around to face Morty.  
“We’ll do it! But only if you do one thing for us.”  
Morty tilted his head. “And what might that be?”  
“Hide us from Mr. Wolfgeist, pretty please!”  
  
Morty only took a few seconds to consider this exchange. While it _could_ end in disaster, with a trashed studio due to the pianist’s rage, he couldn’t possibly pass this up! Not to mention he had quite a lot of rooms on his floor, it wouldn’t be easy to find the girls if he hid them. Not to mention if they _were _located, they had plenty of room to flee, with the connected televisions and all. So, he gladly took Lindsey's hand and gave it a firm shake.  
“You've got yourselves a deal!"  
“Good! Because I thiiiiink he might be coming by here soon.”  
Indeed, the four of them could now faintly hear the angry muttering of Amadeus a floor or two above them now. He had most likely gone to the triplet's floor and had started working his way downwards upon realizing his search yielded empty results. Morty promptly extended a hand out and gestured to the nearest television, comprised of a woodland set with a lot of cardboard cutout trees the three could hide behind. The magical trio nodded and flew forward to give Morty a brief group hug, before flying through the television and into the work-in-progress set. The director smiled faintly and adjusted his beret, reclining back in his chair, feeling a lot more confident now that he had dealt with the issue at hand.  
  
At least, he would’ve adjusted his beret if they hadn’t had snatched it during the hug. Those rascals...


	3. Kruller ft. Other Ghosts: Knick-Knacks and Brief Chats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah shit, here we go again. This time I took a suggestion from Tawogfan2000, which I like to dub as "The boss ghosts get interested in random stuff from the Lost and Found box and will probably use it for later hijinks". I headcanon that Kruller has a little collection of different shades/sunglasses in different styles. He never really wears many of them, he just thinks they're neat.
> 
> As per usual, feel free to leave more requests if you wish!

There’s a certain point where the local _“Lost and Found”_ box becomes one of those _“For Free”_ boxes found at yard sales. It’s at that point where anyone can stroll by and grab at what’s inside, keeping whatever they snatch for themselves since the items within haven’t been claimed in the past few weeks. When it comes to a bunch of ghosts inhabiting a spooky hotel, a place that just_ radiates_ vibes of abandonment, that type of thing is common. Especially when it’s located on a shopping mall floor.  So, of course, many of the ghosts residing in the hotel would drop by Kruller’s office to peruse through the box of miscellaneous items located there. The large security guard would usually expect some of the more minor ghosts to take a visit, such as the goobs, but would occasionally find some of the more recognizable boss ghosts shuffling in to peruse the wares. Their afterlives could get a bit boring, so he wasn’t surprised that they wanted to spice it up a bit, considering most of them tend to stay in their respective floors as the days pass by. He was actually looking forward to having a bit of small talk with some of the more isolated ghosts, or even the more social ones if they stopped by.

It was just a matter of who was going to drop by _this time..._

* * *

“Kruller? I require some assistance.” The security guard snapped out of his distant train of thought to see Serpci approaching him, holding a small object in her hands that was retrieved from the Lost and Found box. Pulling his shades down curiously, he responded.   
“Yeah? What can I help you with?”   
“What is _this?_”   
  
Raising a brow, his eyes shifted down to see that the pharaoh was holding a… kazoo of all things. Most likely one of the least interesting items in that box, but he had to remind himself that some of the staff here weren’t exactly from modern times. Hell, they have a caveman on one of the floors, he shouldn’t be surprised that they were curious about the little things.   
“...It’s a kazoo.”   
“What’s its purpose?”   
“Well, it’s… kind of like an instrument, I guess?”   
“An instrument?”    
“Yeah, you blow into it and it makes noise.”   
  
Serpci rolled the item back and forth in her palms before putting that description to the test. She took in a deep breath and blew it, seeming rather surprised to hear what noise came out of it. She hadn’t been expecting a very _elegant_ sound or anything, but it still sounded weird to her. She proceeded to do this a few more times before she exchanged a brief glance at the larger ghost next to her.   
“Do you think Gloria would like this?”   
**“Definitely.”** Kruller didn’t even have to think twice about it. He knew the groovy DJ near the very top of the hotel well enough to guess that she would absolutely _adore_ something like that, knowing her easygoing attitude.    
“I see. Thank you.” Giving Kruller a nod of gratitude, the pharaoh drifted out with the potential gift, giving a few more experimental kazoo toots as she left. Kruller could hear the kazoo-based beats already. He just hoped it wouldn't bring in a flurry of noise complaints, especially from the more angry members of the staff.

* * *

Dr. Potter had been rummaging through the box for the past 10 minutes or so at this point. It usually didn’t take more than 3 minutes for anyone who came by to grab at some of the contents and leave, but the extended length of time could easily be due to old age. Even then, it shouldn’t be taking the gardener _this long_, right? So, Kruller couldn’t help but curiously approach, looking over the older man’s shoulder. It wasn't bad that he was concerned, right?   
“Everything alright, doc?”

Dr. Potter looked up at the security guard next to him and smiled sheepishly, holding up a small hair clip with a childish plastic flower on it. “Yes, I was just looking for more of these.”

“Oh! Well, yeah, there’s probably more. These things just kinda… get into the little nooks and crannies. Here, I’ll help.” Deciding to assist the older man, he plunged his hand into the box and… pulled out a smaller box? He inspected it for a total of 2 whole seconds before realizing it was a jack-in-the-box, the clown inside of it popping out and scaring the security guard half to death(well, more like half to **life**, since they were already dead and whatnot), leading to him yelping and dropping it. Lightly chuckling at this display, Dr. Potter simply gave Kruller a comforting pat on the shoulder.  
  
“Its okay, I’ll look for more of them later. Thank you anyways, Kruller.” Taking the hair clip he already had, he proceeded to clip it to his beard, brightening up his green aura. Since he lacked hair on his _actual_ head, it only felt reasonable to clip it to what he had for now. After doing so, he gave Kruller a quick wave goodbye and flew out, content with his new accessory.

* * *

You know, Kruller was hoping that chatting with the ghosts that came by would be a nice thing! Pleasant! A nice, brief moment of social interaction! However, the poor, cowardly security guard had forgotten one possibility, and he was now paying for it. The most terrifying brute was merely a few feet away from him at this moment. Currently he was crouched behind his desk, anxiously peering over it at the Lost and Found box, the box itself rustling back and forth. He knew exactly what was in there, but he wouldn’t dare approach it. It was a sweet and innocent creature upon first appearance, but it could grow into a beast with the ability to wreck _everything in it's path_, as well as any unfortunate ghost such as himself. If he dared to disturb it, he would surely face the consequences, so he kept as far as he could, watching with dread as it shuffled around inside the box, his shades askew.   
  
Kruller flinched as Polterkitty gracefully climbed out of the box, a string of yarn dangling from her mouth. The creepy kitty took one glance at Kruller before sashaying out, happy to leave with a brand new toy, the ball connected to the string rolling behind her. For a cat that radiates high class, it was a bit abnormal to see her leaving with such a mundane toy, but all cats probably had an affection for yarn. Just because it was a cat belonging to Hellen of all people didn't mean that it would be entirely disgusted by such a concept. The concerned security guard let out a sigh of relief and wiped his brow, happy to know that he wouldn’t face the deadly wrath of that cat.

* * *

_“Dammit!_ This ‘s wha ah get fer sleepin in.” Clem cursed under his breath, looking down at the inside of the Lost and Found box with disappointment. Clem was usually a frequent visitor whenever the box was available, living in such a way that...well, almost anything can help it, really, if he felt like incorporating it. When you live such a dirty lifestyle down in the basement, just about anything could help it look a bit better. Granted, the most Clem was looking for was an addition to his rubber ducky collection, but it didn’t hurt to grab something else if it piqued his interest.

Unfortunately, he ended up being one of the late ones this time and lost his chance at some good loot. He glanced over his shoulder at Kruller, a little disgruntled frown on his face. He opened his mouth to ask him something, only to be quickly cut off. Kruller already knew what he was gonna ask.   
“Nah, Clem, there weren’t any rubber duckies. At least, from what I saw.” Or from what he heard, anyways. He'd imagine that he would hear a squeaking noise before he even saw it if there was one.  Clem huffed and adjusted his hat at this news. “Darn.”   
“How’d you even get so obsessed with rubber duckies anyways?”   
“Eh, they pop outta tha pipes all tha time. When ya see em so much, ya get attached.”   
“Maybe the reason you can’t find many when you come by is because so many of them get sent down the pipes?”

There was a brief moment of silence. “_...Oh ma god, I neva thought of that.” _Even after being given such "mind-blowing" knowledge, he shrugged shortly after and started floating to the door. “Eh, whateva. I’mma jus’ come back next time since all ta good stuffs ‘s taken.”

“I had to close up soon anyways. See ya, Clem.” Kruller shot Clem a pair of finger guns as a way to say “goodbye” as the dirtier ghost left. The best way to say farewell to someone else, of course.

Pushing himself out of his chair, he decided to take one last glance at what was left in the box before he left. Doing so displayed a small handful of items left. A half-used bottle of lotion, a single glove, and a pair of star shaped sunglasses, tinted blue. Kruller chuckled as he pulled the sunglasses out, inspecting them before replacing his current shades with the star shaped ones. He quietly surveyed his surroundings after doing so, charmed by the different tint to everything, before pocketing them and slipping his usual shades on. He made his way out of the office with a little smile, happy to know that he could add these to his own personal collection, similarly to the ones that stop by.


	4. Morty and Amadeus: Internal Concerns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back! Sorry if I took a bit longer to write this one, I was busy with quite a few things. I decided to go for a Morteus oneshot, since I love the ship myself and I got 2 requests for one from ShyGuy17 and Noah15th. I decided to go with ShyGuy17's idea of Amadeus being the easily jealous type.
> 
> The next oneshot I write might be one of my own ideas, but feel free to send in more suggestions and ideas! I love reading them.

Amadeus was easily aggravated by quite a lot of things. Particularly anything he found to be highly obnoxious, which was a broad spectrum. Disruptions during his performances, high volume when unneeded, and a brand new addition that he’s discovered! Constant mentions of _Luigi_. Call it a grudge, but Amadeus definitely had a valid reason for despising him. After all, he waltzed in during his performance, sucked up all of the goobs performing with him, and drove him to possess his own piano and destroy it! Not to mention the fact he imprisoned almost every single other ghost in sight, the only exception being Morty, which he _supposed_ he could begrudgingly thank him for. _And_ he supposed he could be thankful that he was eventually let out of his glass prison, along with the others he captured.    
  
At this point, Amadeus was just **barely** tolerating the scaredy-cat’s existence, which is hard to do when your boyfriend yammers on about him all the time.   
  
Yes, of course. It was just his luck that his boyfriend grew a liking to the green menace, thinking of him as _“the perfect actor”_. He had been doing his best to contain his frustrations over the past hour, but they were gradually growing more and more noticeable as Morty’s level of detail grew. He almost wanted to physically take those comments about Luigi’s_ “natural talent”_ and _“perfect physique”_ and tear them apart into microscopic shreds. The fact that he was wasting such compliments on the green cretin left his blood practically _boiling._ Nonetheless, he managed to keep himself from blowing up about it up until this point, which was an achievement all on it's own, but that didn’t mean that he was completely composed.   
  
“...Amadeus? Are you okay?”   
“Hm? Of course, why _wouldn’t I be?”_   
“You’re gripping my hand very tight.” Amadeus cursed internally, not bothering to remember that his hands tend to tighten when he’s angry, the only exception usually being when he’s playing his piano. Even then, if pushed to his limits, his hands curl to fists and that’s typically when chaos ensues. Turns out it was a bad idea to be holding hands with Morty while holding such a burning hatred. Still, he tried to subtly play it off as if it were nothing, not wanting to make a fuss over such a _small thing, _no matter how much it bothered him. He was criticized on that a lot. The smallest things drove him insane, and he's been trying to improve on that. However, subtlety wasn’t much of a practiced skill for him. Sarcasm was much more of a familiar term.   
“It’s nothing. Go on, continue talking about your _precious_ Luigi.”   
  
Maybe adding emphasis on_ ‘precious"_ wasn’t a smooth move, as it caused Morty’s suspicion to rise rather quickly. He shifted his hand up to rest on Amadeus’ shoulder instead, giving it a concerned squeeze. “I’m guessing you’re still mad?”   
“Well, I have every right to be, don’t I?”   
“Well, I suppose you do. But then again, it’s not like my star hurt any of you.”   
“Tell that to the many headaches I received from being smacked around when he arrived on my floor. But it’s fine! Go on, keep talking about his _“fantastic physique”_ and such. I'm sure you have lots to say about it!”   
There was a brief pause between the two of them, before Morty cut in with a question that struck Amadeus harder than he expected it to. Mostly because it didn't even seem like a possibility in his mind.   
“...Are you jealous?”   
“_**What!?**_ N-No! Of course not! Jealousy? I don’t even know the meaning of the word!” Amadeus sputtered, caught off guard by that accusation. He wasn’t jealous! Not in the slightest! It wasn’t as though he was a lot angrier when it came to Morty’s compliments directed to the green heathen, or that he felt a bit possessive whenever he spotted the two of them talking to each other, or…   


Oh god he _was_ jealous, wasn’t he? His face went from offended and tense, to surprised and aware. Morty’s smirk upon seeing this wasn’t making the situation any better, though. The pianist refused to say a coherent sentence for a few seconds, quickly coming to terms with the fact that this was most _definitely_ jealousy, as the air was filled with stutters and denial. But he wouldn’t give Morty the direct satisfaction of him admitting it straightforwardly!   
“Hmph… okay, _hypothetically_ speaking,” Yes, a hypothetical situation is exactly what he needs to get his point across! “If I _was_ a tad bit jealous, I believe I have--er, I **would** have the right to be jealous! You do speak of him with seemingly… very _high_ appreciation after all.”

Despite the pianist’s attempts to stay peeved about this, crossing his arms over one another with a deep frown on his face, he couldn’t help but soften just a bit when Morty wrapped his arms around him. No matter how disgruntled he could be, one little hug was all that it took for him to start melting like butter. Especially if it was a tender, sweet one with good intentions from someone like Morty.

“Well, whether or not the jealousy is hypothetical or for real, I’d just like you to know that my heart yearns only for you! Luigi may be the star of my shows, but you’re my whole galaxy!”   
  
_Good god, curse Morty and his sappy compliments._ His distasteful facade was gradually dissolving, bit by bit, until he was wrapping his lengthy arms around the blue ghost in front of him, returning the physical affection.    
“Is that a million dollar smile I see?”   
“Stop, I’m trying to be angry!” Amadeus truly was beginning to smile, trying to hide it but to no avail.   
“But I thought you wanted compliments, my love~?”   
_”Auuugh…”_ Blushing up a storm, Amadeus rolled his eyes and tightened his hold around his director boyfriend, his jagged, ghostly tail curling around Morty’s as well. He supposed he could handle Morty going on about Luigi's talents, so long as he had some compliments directed at him as well to balance him out. Considering the blue specter was rambling on about Luigi over the span of the past hour, there was surely a lot of reassurance and praise to be dished out.   
  
“Very well.  _Keep them coming.”_


	5. Ug ft. Other ghosts: A Caveman's Lament

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I grew attached to a local caveman baby over the span of, like, a single day and decided to write an entire one-shot for him. I personally headcanon that Ug died by being eaten by a T-Rex, but he decided to be spiteful and haunt it's skeleton once it died, and now he just sleeps in it for a majority of the time. I officially have turned the 9th floor boss into a baby. 
> 
> Don't worry, I'll get to writing some requests next! Feel free to send in more in the meantime.

Ug didn’t know a lot of things, which was understandable given his status as a caveman in the modern world. He didn’t understand technology, how to speak English, how to be polite, the list could go on for miles, to be frank. In fact, the list of things he didn’t know or understand could probably wrap around the earth itself at least _5 times_. Granted, someone else would have to write the list, since he wasn’t very knowledgeable in writing either. His hands were probably too big to hold a normal pencil anyways. There was, however, _one_ thing he understood, something that didn’t require rocket science to deduct.   
  
He was different. If he knew what the word meant, he’d surely call himself an _“outcast” _as well, and for good reason. After all, he was the only caveman in the entire hotel! No one could possibly understand him. He was too big, too strong, too scary, too loud, and from a completely different time period! He gnawed on whatever he could grab(edible or not) out of sheer boredom, he couldn't be polite and mature for the life of him, he was too destructive, he was too dirty, and he was just… genuinely unlikable. Because of this , he would isolate himself. He absolutely **refused** to leave his floor, taking refuge in the T-Rex skeleton for a good portion of his time, allowing it's structure to cradle him. It felt familiar, in a morbid way, since this very T-Rex was the cause of his death many years ago. But hey, now he was a ghost and he had full control of it’s skeleton whenever he wished, so who’s the real winner here? It’s a bit petty and spiteful, sure, but he already has enough negative traits, so who cares? He didn't care! Not in the slightest! 

He was content with his solitude on the museum floor. He was free to wander about as he pleased, surrounded by more ancient items, which made things feel _slightly_ at home. Sure, it was very quiet and... boring sometimes, but he didn't care! Not at all! The less confusion in his afterlife, the better. The less ghosts in his life to drive forth his desire for isolation, the happier he was. Thankfully, he managed to drive away just about everyone due to his tendency to lash out, often sending the message via tantrums. So he was almost always completely alone! Well, emphasis on _“almost"_. It took him a long time to discover this, but during his occasional(and by occasional, I mean frequent) naps, which usually took place in the T-Rex skeleton, some of the other ghosts would venture onto his floor for one reason or another. Either to take a few glimpses at the exhibits, because of a job assigned to them, or some miscellaneous third reason. 

The first time he discovered this, he awoke to the sound of soft, melodious humming. Peeking out of the mouth of the T-Rex, peering through sleepy eyes, he discovered Chambrea in the middle of the room, cleaning away. Looking closer, it seemed as though she was cleaning up one of the exhibits he had destroyed during one of his _“tantrums”_, with her curiously examining a shard of a dinosaur bone. Seeing her touch _his_ stuff, destroyed or not, bubbled forth a familiar feeling of **rage** inside him, finally making himself known as he let out a **roar** to drive her away. He most certainly would’ve clambered out of the T-Rex to personally chase her off, but seeing her panic and _eat_ the shard of dinosaur bone confused him long enough for her to escape at her own pace, with the caveman utterly bewildered at the sight of another ghost putting something in their mouth that wasn’t edible.

That was the first time he’s seen any of the ghosts do anything _somewhat_ relatable to him, and it definitely wasn’t the last. 

One time, when Ug was _just waking up_, the triplet sisters flew through the floor with absolutely no warning, giggling mischievously in unison. Not a second later, Amadeus flew into the room after them, looking pissed beyond belief. The four of them only stayed for a few seconds, with the triplets immediately fleeing on sight, but a few seconds conveyed just enough information to the caveman. Amadeus, who Ug had originally thought of as ten times calmer than him, despite not seeing him very often, was displaying an ungodly level of rage to the point that his hair was standing on end. Meanwhile, the triplets seemed to find whatever they did to be funny, despite it being at Amadeus’ expense, seemingly not taking such a mature figure very seriously. The caveman most certainly would've thrown a fit about them entering out of nowhere like that if it didn't wrack his brain so much.

A week or two after that incident, he spotted something rather peculiar whilst drifting in and out of sleep. Three individuals that didn’t seem to come from modern day times like the others, those being King Macfrights, Serpci and Captain Fishhook, were wandering about on his floor at different intervals. All Ug knew in order to come to the conclusion that they were from different time periods was that they looked _far too different _than the others. Sure, all the residents of the hotel had varying clothing styles, but these 3 in particular seemed to have drastic differences. Kind of like him. From what he took glimpses of, seeing them wander into the museum, they seemed just as confused about everything in the museum as Ug was towards life outside of the 9th floor, just with the benefit of being able to communicate their confusion clearly. His temptation to drive them away grew and grew, only to be smothered by his desire to sleep. _Totally not because of any curiosity or anything._

At this point, Ug took to the hobby of people watching and eavesdropping. He used an _incredibly skillful and complex technique_, which basically boiled down to pretending to be asleep. It wasn't the most _convincing,_ but it seemed to work well enough. What followed was a rather comforting array of visits to the 9th floor, one ghost after the other deciding to stop by, believing that they can sneak in during the caveman's slumber. Ug would occasionally peek around the corner to see Dr.Potter observing the flora presented throughout the halls, examining them with just enough care that Ug didn't throw a fit. Sometimes, Ug would press his ear up against the ceiling to listen to the faint sound of music echoing from Dj Phantasmagloria's floor, unfamiliar with music in general, but attracted by the faint sounds. On the rare occasion that he'd see Johnny stop by, he would be amazed to see someone so prideful of their strength as if it couldn't be used for chaos. With each passing ghost, Ug went from feeling alone to feeling understood. Sure, all the traits he connected to weren't the positive kind, but it was a shock to even have anything in common with the others besides being... well, a ghost. He'd say the only thing he had common with them was being _human_, but Captain Fishhook was an exception.

Did this mean that he wanted to start talking to them now? Hell no! That would only reverse all sense of comfort and connection that he's felt thus far. Not to mention he was... a little nervous, to be honest. But it was a big enough change for him, to be honest. So, he was happy just... watching from afar for now.  
  
At least, until the ghosts start to notice him waving at them from time to time.


	6. Hellen and the Boss Ghosts: A Cautionary White Lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like this oneshot! I decided to try a more group-centered one, with all the boss ghosts involved and/or mentioned, so it came out a bit longer than my other ones. I decided to take a suggestion from an anonymous user back in chapter 1, and chose to write my interpretation as to how Hellen threatened/convinced the boss ghosts into protecting the elevator buttons/toad portraits. I personally think a combination of her sheer presence and E.Gadd's ghost hunting history combined to form a pretty convincing half-lie. 
> 
> So yeah! Enjoy! And feel free to throw in more suggestions and requests.

“Alright, what’s this about, Hellen?”

Hellen Gravely slowly swiveled around in her chair to face the other boss ghosts floating before her, gently petting her beloved Polterkitty lying curled up in her lap. Her cat’s soft purring helped to calm her, since she had to edit her and King Boo's plan to make things a bit more complicated, all because Luigi managed to flee down the laundry shoot. What a _coward_. She had asked if King Boo wanted to know where it led so he could fetch Luigi himself, but the King had an entirely different idea. He said he wished to have some _fun_ with this, so he’d led Luigi wander about hopelessly for a little while. With that request came a plan B. If King Boo wished to have fun watching the green buffoon helplessly run about, she’d deliver on that. However, she couldn’t do it all by herself.  
  
“I’m sure you all know that we’ve lured some… _ghost hunters_ here and have trapped them, correct?” Well, she was only slightly correct with that statement. Telling the others that it was an **entire** group of ghost hunters that they were trapping was a lot more convincing. They would most likely be at least a _little_ hesitant if they knew they were capturing innocent people otherwise.   
“You told us a whole bunch of times!”  
“It was really boring staying out of the first floor all day, you know!”  
“What do you want us to do _now_, Ms. Gravely? Please don’t let it be something boring...” The triplets chimed, one after the other, seemingly not very happy with being restricted from certain areas for a little while, as it'd most likely put the original plan in jeopardy. Even if it was only for a few hours, they were still the impatient type.

“It wasn’t all that bad, young ones.” Serpci casually remarked, gently floating from side to side as she looked down at the 3 magicians.  
“Easy for you to say, Ms. Serpci! You just sleep in your coffin all day."

“Well maybe you three should rest every once in a while.”

“As I was _saying_...” Hellen cut off the possible banter immediately, wanting to continue with her new plan. “Look, I’ll just cut to the chase. One of those ghost hunters,**_ t__his one_** in particular", She paused to push a paper forward, Luigi’s face printed across it with a money bag below it, providing a cash reward for his capture. “Has escaped from our clutches. So, my orders are simple. I’m entrusting you guys to help deal with him.” 

As the others before her crowded around to gaze at the escaped ghost hunter's image, the quiet room quickly filled with hysterical laughter from Johnny Deepend, Clem, and King MacFrights. “Pfft… you mean to say that this scrawny looking nerd managed to escape? And you need to up security because of it!? _Gahahaha!_ I’ve seen some of the oozers with more muscles than this guy!” The swimmer seemed to be the only one of the three finding this concept openly amusing, as Clem and MacFrights just continued to laugh in the background. A few staff members provided muffled chuckles and snickers, trying not to fuel the fire too much. Hellen, however, seemed the least amused out of all of them.  
“Are you treating this like a_ joke_, you three?”  
“Well, how could aye not?" MacFrights cut in, a smirk on his face.  
Hellen just sighed and shook her head. “Hmph… you know, I was hoping you’d take the escape of E.Gadd’s assistant more seriously.”  
Everyone could practically _hear_ a record scratch sound effect echo around the room.  
  
“...Wait, **what?**”  
“Oh? Did I forget to mention that? Well, I didn’t want to cause too much of a fuss. After all, from what I’ve heard from King Boo, Luigi’s captured a good few mansions worth of ghosts with some of the professor’s gadgets. Very hard to believe, I know… but if someone as small and feeble as that professor can create devices to catch every single innocent ghost nearby, then who’s to say what someone like _Luigi_ could do with that power at his disposal?”  
That statement seemed to do the trick, as the boss ghosts seemed to tense up at the mention of E.Gadd. It was pretty easy to show off proof of his ghost hunting deeds and such, thanks to King Boo’s help, striking fear into a good majority of the staff. After all, being captured and paraded around like decorations by a ghost collector was a fate worse than death, and since they’ve all been through death, they could actually properly compare it! Though, it _was_ rather bewildering as to how such a small, old man like him could contain all those ghosts, but now that the mention of Luigi’s help was brought forth, it became a lot clearer to them.

Hellen, satisfied with the silence, leaned back in her chair with her hands clasped together. “Wonderful. Now, let’s get down to business. I need to hand out a few things to you all. I need you to guard them with your lives.” She stated. As a handful of goobs came out, holding a small box and 3 toad paintings, there was a quiet whisper from Chef Soulffle. _ "Aren't we already dead, though?" _

"You know what I mean, Soulffle!" Hellen barked, glaring at the chef. She didn't exactly have the patience to deal with her demands being corrected. "Now, I need you all to guard one of these elevator buttons to prevent his progress." She swept her arm out towards the goob holding the small box, which opened to reveal the elevator buttons in all their glory. She snapped her fingers and the goob nodded, beginning to move through the crowd and hand off an elevator button to each staff member. The group quickly began to pocket their respective buttons, such as Dr.Potter slipping his into his little backpack, and Kruller attaching it to his key ring. After handing them out, the little blue helper who distributed them did a quick head count and floated back to Hellen, holding the box with one hand and scratching their head in confusion with the other. Hellen just took the box, which still had three more buttons inside it, examined it, and then waved a dismissive hand, allowing the ghost to leave. "I'll handle the rest." She said, looking over the remaining buttons as the goob left.  
"Now, Amadeus, Fishhook, and... ah, right, he's not here. Of course. No matter, I'll deal with that later. Anyways, I need you two to handle watching over some these paintings. Can't keep all of them in one place, after all, that'd just made it too easy for this _green menace_." As she said this, she snapped her fingers again and the goobs holding the paintings flew forward to hand these off to the mad pianist and the ferocious pirate.  
_"Very well, I suppose I can keep an eye on it."_ Amadeus mumbled, examining the painting in his hands.  
"Aye, I'll be keepin this here painting safe and sound. Ye have my word!" Fishhook exclaimed, tucking the painting under one of his fins.

Hellen, content with the distribution of items, once again waved her hand dismissively. "Well then, you're all dismissed to your floors. Except for you two." She lifted a hand and pointed a finger towards Steward and Chambrea. "I still have some orders for you. As for the rest of you, I expect you to keep those safe. I assume you can imagine what may await you if you _**don't.**_" The hotel owner increased the level of venom in her voice as she ended that sentence, surely at least sending a shiver down the staff's spines. They very well knew what was in store for them if they failed. "Oh, and by the way..." Hellen continued, watching the last of the ghosts file out. "Whoever has the button to my floor, keep in mind that you're essentially my last line of defense. I trust you to give everything you've got." What she received in response was a thumbs up from Phantasmagloria, holding up the floor fifteen button with pride before she departed. Now all that remained was Hellen and her hardest hotel workers.

"Now, Chambrea..." She slowly turned her chair towards the maid. "I need you to go clean up the rooms in the RIP Suites, especially that scrawny professor's room. Confiscate anything that might look like a dangerous weapon of some sort, or just anything suspicious in general, and bring it to me." Chambrea gave a nervous nod and quickly left, slightly nervous about looking around a room full of possible ghost-hunting equipment, but not wanting to vocalize any complaints. After all, being told off by Hellen wasn't exactly a very wonderful experience, and the hotel owner had already been asked too many questions by now. After that, Hellen swiveled her chair around to face Steward.  
"Now, Steward, I need you to go down to the basement and collect any excess luggage lying about. While you head down there, here's a few things I need you to drop off." Without hesitation, Steward was handed 3 extra buttons and the last toad painting. It was quite a handful for the poor guy, but he managed to keep a hold on everything handed to him. Admittedly, this was far easier than carrying all the luggage he's usually handed.  
"I need you to deliver one of those buttons each to Morty and Ug, since they seem to be _absent_ from our little meeting." She could very well understand Ug not coming,_ lord knows they were probably better off without him here_, but Morty's lack of an appearance was quite... annoying. Nevertheless, she could work with this. "Also, drop that painting off on the ninth floor as well. Knowing Ug, he'd think of it as a new addition to the museum and would want to protect it."

Steward gulped and nodded firmly, slightly fearful about heading down to Ug's floor. He could only pray that the caveman was fast asleep at the moment. "Right away, ma'am!" He exclaimed, leaving immediately. It was only after he finished dropping off those items did he realize he had an extra button, but he decided to shrug it off. He'd take care of all the luggage first, then he'd ask Hellen what to do with the extra button when he returned for additional demands. Meanwhile, Hellen happily scratched Polterkitty behind the ear, reclining comfortably in her office as she browsed through her security cameras, a dastardly grin on her face. This was all going swell.  
  
There was no way Luigi could survive out there.


	7. Dr. Potter: Let's Go in the Garden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for not updating until now. I got struck with what I think was almost the flu, meaning I was sick over the last few days. Also, sorry for not doing another request this time, I just got really motivated to write my headcanon as to how Dr.Potter died. I was in a lowkey angst mood.
> 
> But I promise I'll try to do a request for the next chapter! Feel free to send in more in the meantime.

Dr.Potter didn’t have that much to live for anymore. Or _anyone_ to live for, anyways.

That was what sucked about growing too old. He could handle being weak and vulnerable, he just couldn't deal with the _loneliness_. Somehow it hurt more than anything. Everyone he's ever loved has either died already, or they're too far away to keep in contact with him. At least, physically, anyways. He'd sometimes get phone calls and holiday cards in the mail, but physical interaction was rare. The only thing that seemed to fill that void for him anymore were his plants, all lined up neat and pretty in his expansive garden. After all, plants were alive too. Just not in the same way as humans. He didn’t mind though, it prevented awkward conversations and having to provide constant reassurance that his health was okay. He gets enough of those comments from his loved ones in their occasional messages, out of _obvious_ concern due to his age, but he preferred to be surrounded by company that didn't bring it up as much.** Or at all.**   
  
So, inevitably, his garden became his world. As each day passed, he grew more and more feeble and slow, as one typically does with age. Hours drifted by in the blink of an eye as he moved from one garden bed to the next, carefully pulling weeds out of the dirt and sprinkling water over his little friends, gently grazing his fingers over the colorful petals and stems. His stamina would deplete rapidly and he would end up stopping to catch his breath, sometimes accidentally falling asleep, surrounded by the only color and life he felt he had anymore. He didn’t mind when a couple hours passed because of this, because what else was he supposed to do to pass the time anymore? His free time was practically_ endless_ at this point.

Days and nights passed, and soon enough, only a few hours of his life remained. He didn't want to acknowledge it, though. His joints were stiff and his body was barely holding itself together. His hands trembled as he watered his flowers, occasionally nearly drenching the poor things. He could barely get out of bed anymore, and he had to use a cane to keep himself upright. But since he was actively avoiding the mention of _anything_ about the status of his health, he didn't care.

It was around 2 PM now, and he was just barely finished with half of his garden. He was currently tending to the flytraps, gently tapping each one on the head or scratching their "chins" as a form of mild affection. As soon as he was done, he let out a brief yawn and found himself lying beside the plants, giving them enough space in case he rolled over. He didn't want to accidentally crush them, after all. Resting on his back and gazing up at the sky, he set his hands on his chest and closed his eyes, relishing in the warmth of the sun. He almost felt… somewhat _cradled_ by the Earth. Like mother nature had adopted him as one of her own. Many regarded mother nature as a force to be reckoned with, what with the merciless acts of destruction natural disasters caused and all, but Potter never saw it that way. Mother nature was a morally grey figure, sometimes merciful, and other times wreaking havoc. It wasn't as though anyone could stop her anyways, so he chose to appreciate what she had to offer, giving back to her with the minuscule amounts of love he could provide. In return, she gave him company. With the fresh air flowing through his lungs and his back resting against the earth, he slowly drifted off to sleep.  
  
  
He never woke up, but at least his little friends beside him helped to snatch a couple of hungry flies trying to feast once he started to rot. At least those investigating his death could use that as an explanation for the state of his body, but they couldn't come up with a proper excuse for his near-perfect garden when it had no one to take care of it for so long. Or as to why the nearby watering can seemed to move around despite there being strict orders to not tamper with any nearby objects.


End file.
